It’s difficult looking at Sparks’ photigraph still. I work at home and Sparks used to lye under my desk. She would put her head on my lap when she wanted attention and I would give her a luxurious head and neck rub.
If Sparks remained staring at me, I knew it was time for her afternoon walk. As gracefully as a dog could, she would help me put her into her purple harness and I would connect her leash.
Sparks was with us fourteen-years. I recall thinking a couple-of-years before she passed, that I would have to remember the moments when I rubbed her belly and she made happy sounds. I would need to think about how she cuddled into me with total trust and devotion. I would have to remember because one day she’d be gone.
It’s been awhile since Sparks left us and I haven’t had a dog to keep me company at home.
My husband drove us to the Humane Society, one Saturday. To his excitement, we found a one-year-old dog who looked a great deal like Sparks when she was a puppy.
“What about her?”my husband asked me and I laughed.
“She’s perfect,” I said and we adopted Dakota.
Thanks to Roger Shipp for hosting the Flash Fiction Challenge.
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